


A Christmas Queue

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and his children get acquainted with Draco and Scorpius while queueing to visit Father Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Queue

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Harry Potter Minifest on LJ for Christmas 2014.

“Malfoy.” Harry Potter nodded to his old nemesis, shifted his daughter on his hip and cast a tired eye about the joke shop for his sons before turning back to Draco. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised to see you here.” 

Harry was at the end of a long queue of parents and children waiting to see Father Christmas. He obediently scooted forward a few steps as Malfoy and the small boy accompanying him joined the queue behind him.

“Scorpius,” Malfoy said, placing his hand on the head of the child beside him, “insisted on coming.” He sounded exceedingly reluctant. He looked around the shop and Harry, taking in Malfoy’s stiff posture and overly-formal clothing for the occasion, had no doubt it had cost him quite a bit to step inside Weasleys’ Wizarding Whizzes.

“Well, you’ve picked the right place, anyway,” Harry said. “Ron and George always have the best Father Christmas. He’s really quite magical – but I’d take a good look at the treat bag before you let your son have a go with it.”

Malfoy gave a tight smile. There was a time when Harry would have avoided even making eye contact with him, but after eleven years, three children, a failed marriage and a Ministry job that tested the limits of his frustration daily, Malfoy wasn’t even a road bump in the grand scheme of life.

“This place makes my eyes hurt,” Malfoy muttered a few minutes later. They’d moved forward only a few paces in the queue – Father Christmas was certainly taking his time with the children. In the time they’d waited, they’d only seen one child leave the shop, clutching her treat bag and bouncing around her mother like the victim of a Jack-in-the-Box hex.

Harry turned and smiled. The statement had a lot of the old Malfoy in it, but then again, the old Malfoy wouldn’t be making casual conversation with Harry Potter. The _old_ Malfoy would never have set foot inside the Weasleys’ joke shop either.

“It will make more than your eyes hurt if you don’t check that treat bag thoroughly,” he said. Lily, already overdue for her nap, settled her head on his shoulder with a sigh and looked down at Scorpius with interest. She smiled, but buried her head in Harry’s shoulder shyly when the small boy tentatively smiled back.

Harry didn’t have to ask where Scorpius’ mother was. Draco’s divorce had occupied nearly as much space in the _Daily Prophet_ as had his own. 

“Astoria thinks she’d doing me a favour,” Draco commented. He’d released his son’s hand and Scorpius was busy examining a low shelf filled with containers of edible jellied flobberworms. Lily craned her head to watch him, still clutching tightly to Harry. Harry sighed. There was a reason the Father Christmas queue snaked around the shop as it did. Christmas sales brought in even more revenue for Ron and George than did the summer pre-Hogwarts season, and they wanted the potential customers – and their children – to see as many of their products as possible.

“Oh, Ginny has no such illusions,” Harry responded. “She brought the children last year and gladly left it for me this Christmas.”

The queue moved enough that Draco was able to pull Scorpius away from the flobberworms. They rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of a display of Muggle gag gifts. Scorpius picked up a Whoopee cushion. He studied the display model curiously while Lily struggled to get down.

Harry maintained a tight grip on his daughter.

“Been photographed with anyone new lately?” Harry asked lightly, eying Draco appraisingly. As with their divorces themselves, the reasons for the failure of their respective marriages were well-known and oft-discussed. And while the rumour mill had had Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley in a clandestine, adulterous affair, it was soon quelled when Malfoy appeared at a Ministry fundraiser arm in arm with Marcus Flint. Harry had been more discreet, yet was photographed several months after his divorce in a small Muggle Italian restaurant on a date with Oliver Wood. 

“If you’re wondering if Marcus is available, your interest is duly noted,” answered Draco drolly. His gaze swept over Harry and he lowered his voice, an amused look in his eyes. “He left me when he realised I was on the rebound after the ex-Mrs. Potter abandoned me.” He raised an eyebrow and took Scorpius’ hand again as the queue moved forward three paces then stopped again. Scorpius eyed a display of Christmas plushies. He picked up a snowman sporting a green top hat and a Slytherin tie, then jumped back, startled, and dropped it when the snowman turned into a fish and began flopping on the floor. He looked up at his father imploringly. Draco scooted the fish under the shelf with the side of his boot.

“Are you, then?” asked Harry, somehow not bothered at all by Malfoy’s comment about Ginny. He’d scooted away from the flopping fish which was now splattering them with drops of water. 

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched. “Seeing Marcus? No.” He lowered his voice. “He didn’t like the idea of sharing my time with Scorpius.”

“Ah.” Harry nodded sympathetically. _That_ he understood. Finding men who were willing to accommodate children into their lives was a challenge akin to finding and destroying horcruxes. Well – to be honest – there were wizards out there who wanted an instant family and were willing to accommodate Harry’s kids, but so far, not a single one had passed muster with the children.

Out of nowhere, five-year old Al appeared, skidding to a halt at Harry’s side and grabbing on to his leg. He was out of breath and red in the face. “Dad – Jamie is playing with the Piddling Penguins again and….”

His voice trailed off, eyes on the small boy standing beside Draco Malfoy, one hand wrapped around his father’s leg.

“Hi,” he said. He gave Scorpius a proud smile. “I’m Al, and this is my uncles’ joke shop and we really don’t have to queue with everyone else except my dad says we can’t take advantage and need to take our proper turn and good things come to those who wait.” He paused for a gulp of air. “I’ve five, and Lily’s three, and Jamie’s six but nearly seven and how old are you?”

Harry watched with interest as Scorpius turned up his blonde head and looked at his father with wide brown eyes he must have inherited from his mum. Draco nodded, clearly giving his son permission to speak with this little stranger.

“I’m five,” Scorpius replied. His voice was small but confident. “And what’s a piddling penguin?” he challenged.

“Come on – I’ll show you.” Al tugged the boy by the hand. “Is it alright, Dad? I’ll tell Jamie you said to stop playing with them and he’ll have to use all his allowance money on buying one if he breaks it and you won’t even fix it with a Reparo and maybe you’ll even tell Father Christmas if this queue ever moves?”

Harry glanced at Malfoy, catching him trying to suppress a grin. He bit back one of his own as he addressed his son. “I can see over to the penguins. If Scorpius’ dad says it’s alright then –”

“Scorpius? Wow.” Al looked at the small boy with newfound admiration. “Cool!” He looked up at Harry, then, with a scowl on his face reminiscent of the namesake he was about to protest. “ _Scorpius,_ Dad. Did you hear that? Scorpius! How cool is that? Way better than Albus Sev….”

“Yes, I know. I’ve heard it already, Al. Your name isn’t cool.”

“James _Sirius_! Sirius, Dad! And Lily _Luna_. And all I have is stupid Albus _Severus_!”

Harry set his face, ready to talk Al through this one more time, but Scorpius Malfoy beat him to it.

“It’s not stupid. That’s mine too – my middle name.” He spoke with the same quiet voice, but firmly, hands planted on his hips and thin lips set. “Scorpius Severus Malfoy.” He emphasised the first syllable of each name, nodding his head with each new word.

Al’s eyes widened and Harry shot a disbelieving look at Malfoy. 

“Really? You’ve got a Severus too? Cool!”

And with that, he tugged at Scorpius’ hand again, and Draco nodded when he looked up for permission, and the boys hurried away together toward the Piddling Penguin display.

The queue moved again and Harry shuffled forward. 

“Severus, Potter?” drawled Draco, his voice nearly swallowed up in the noise and bustle around him.

“Albus Severus,” Harry clarified. Lily, a dead weight on his shoulder now, sighed as she sank into sleep. “And really, you’ve not much room to talk.” He kept one eye on the boys, noting that James was already in the thick of it, talking animatedly to Scorpius and Al, who were both looking at him somewhat reverently.

Malfoy, too, had one eye on the boys. He shrugged but didn’t respond otherwise to Harry’s statement. “Merlin help me,” he said as the smaller boys chased James from one side of the display to the other. “Three Potters. How do you do it? I can hardly keep up with Scorpius.”

“I always wanted a big family,” Harry responded. “I really didn’t think about it. You do what needs doing.” He adjusted Lily, pressing a kiss to her tangled red curls and smiling fondly. He loved the weight of a sleeping child in his arms. “It’s worth it.”

And he meant it. It was worth it – even though his boyish, romanticised picture of a perfect family had been cut to pieces and reassembled in a different shape these past two years.

Beside him, Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. Harry glanced at him, noticing, in a distracted sort of way, as if eying up a bloke at a pub, how his robes hugged his arse. Somehow, in all this talk of family and children and namesakes, he’d been thinking of Malfoy as another dad, and not a fit man of his own age and sexual orientation.

As well it should be. This was Malfoy, after all. _Draco_ Malfoy.

“Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad!” Al came at them, tearing across the floor and upsetting an end display of Weasleys’ Christmas Crackers. One of the crackers burst open, releasing a swarm of giant glittery gold cockroaches with reindeer antlers and Father Christmas hats. They scattered throughout the store as Malfoy hopped backward. “Teddy’s here! And he knows who Scorpius is! They’re cousins, Dad! Cousins! Like Rose and Hugo and Fred and - ”

Harry put his hand down to stop his charging child. “He’s right,” he said. “Teddy’s mum and Scorpius’ dad were cousins, so that makes Teddy and Scorpius second cousins.”

“That is SO cool!” Cool was Al’s word of the month. “Can we have Scorpius over to play, Dad? Please? Next time we have a week with you?”

He looked up at Harry with his bright green eyes, and Harry pressed his lips together, then smiled at his son. A playdate with the Mallfoys – certainly not something he’d ever considered. Tea with the Queen, perhaps, or a trip to the moon….

“Sure, Al. Let me talk to Scorpius’ Dad and see what we can do. Go on back with the others.” He lowered his voice. “We don’t want to wake Lily.”

Al nodded sagely – he knew what a fuss budget his sister was when she woke. He backed away and beamed at Harry, then turned to Draco. “Please, Mr. Scorpius? I’ll tell him not to be scared of Kreacher.”

And with that, he was off again, and Draco was chuckling, and Harry shook his head and smiled.

“What do you think about a play date?”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up again. He stared at Harry in confusion before realisation set in.

“Oh – you mean the boys,” he clarified. His cheeks coloured, just a bit, but enough for Harry to notice. Harry grinned. He was rather liking this side of Draco Malfoy.

“Well, yes. But you’ll have to come along too. It’s a playdate rule, you know. Parent participation required.” 

The look on his face made it clear to Harry that Draco Malfoy didn’t go on many play dates.

They scooted forward as the queue advanced another five feet. “I suppose we can manage it,” Malfoy said at last, glancing over at his son thoughtfully.

“The Sunday after Christmas, perhaps?” Harry suggested. “After lunch – and plan on staying for tea.”

“Alright. Yes – that sounds…fine.”

Another long silence, another five feet of progress toward Father Christmas. There was no need to exchange addresses – Malfoy knew very well how to find the ancient house of Black at Grimmauld Place.

“I can’t believe we both named our sons after him.” Harry turned sideways, readjusted his sleeping daughter, and gave Malfoy a bemused look.

“One more thing we have in common,” murmured Malfoy. “As if being thirty-year old divorced gay fathers isn’t enough…” 

“Twenty-nine,” corrected Harry with a smile. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” He looked around the store again. “Are you sure you don’t want to call in a favor and get us to the front of this queue?” 

Harry nodded in the direction of the boys. “I think they’d rather we take our time.”

Together, he and Malfoy watched as an apparently headless James raced around the Piddling Penguin display chased by the giggling younger boys.

“Vanishing hat,” Harry explained with a nostalgic smile. “One of Fred and George’s early inventions.”

ooOoo

In time, they did see Father Christmas.

Lily cried, and chatty Al became tongue-tied, and James pretended to be a penguin. Only Scorpius managed to whisper his request into Father Christmas’ ear.

“Two brothers and a sister? Are you certain? That’s an awfully tall order, son.”

And Scorpius nodded seriously, looking over toward his new friends. So Father Christmas, too, looked to where the Potters stood. A frazzled Harry Potter was holding three treat bags over his head as the children hopped up and down trying to reach them. Then Father Christmas turned his head to study Draco Malfoy, impeccably dressed and groomed, waiting for his son, looking ten long miles out of his comfort zone.

Father Christmas had been squeezed and kissed and drooled on and cried on and more than one little monster had tugged on his beard to make sure it was real. He was rather tired of hearing requests for crups and kneazles and _real_ brooms, not the kind that only flew three feet off the ground. At least this child’s request was original and heartfelt.

And Father Christmas _loved_ a challenge.

His eyes sparkled as he turned back to the small boy on his lap and bent to whisper into his ear.

Scorpius smiled, and nodded solemnly, and climbed off Father Christmas’ lap. He took his father’s hand, and accepted his treat bag with a polite _Thank you very much_ , and they stopped to talk to the Potters one more time, then made their way to the door.

And Scorpius watched as Mr. Potter and his father shook hands on the street outside the shop, and discussed something that was happening on Sunday, and then they were on their way again, and Scorpius’ heart was tight in his chest.

Father Christmas’ magic was powerful, and he’d promised Scorpius a miracle.

All he had to do was _believe_.

He glanced up at his father as they hurried along the street. Father’s face was lighter, less serious. He squeezed Scorpius’ hand and they ducked into Flourish and Blotts, then stopped at Gringotts, then finally made the promised visit to Fortescue’s for hot chocolate.

By lucky coincidence, the Potters were there, sitting around a high table in the corner.

Al and James called out and Al stood on his chair and Mr. Potter smiled and motioned them over as he put his arm around Al to keep him from falling.

Father didn’t even hesitate.

And Scorpius – well, Scorpius thought of Father Christmas’ promise, and believed.

_The End_


End file.
